


the wasted world we thought we knew

by OneforSorrowTwoforMirth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, CT-7567 | Rex Has PTSD, Dealing with PTSD, Gen, One Shot, Order 66 Aftermath (Star Wars), Post S7, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Rex Doesn't Want to Talk About His Feelings, Rex and Ahsoka part ways, Rex gets hella wasted, Survivors Guilt, Trauma, and so does Rex, i listened to so much bastille while writing this, obligatory angst tag, so I wrote this, there's a few hugs to make up for all the angst, there's not really a detailed canon reason they parted ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneforSorrowTwoforMirth/pseuds/OneforSorrowTwoforMirth
Summary: Rex knows he can't continue like this - stumbling in and out of bars, forgetting where he is or what's being said, not speaking for hours at a time. But the thought of leaving the last person he has left seems as impossible as life ever returning to a semblance of normal.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	the wasted world we thought we knew

**Author's Note:**

> "Are you drifting way beyond what's normal?  
> Cause round your mind ring the words that they would say  
> When you go home everything looks different  
> And you're scared of being left behind."  
> \- The Draw, Bastille

Rex hadn’t spent much time in bars. He’d  _ been  _ to them, sure. Usually because he was getting Fives out of trouble. Clones weren’t supposed to need things that ordinary soldiers did, like time to get drunk and make fools of themselves. But like with ordinary soldiers, the higher ranks looked the other way so long as they didn’t cause too much trouble. 

He found himself in a bar now, though, and he felt just as out of place as he had the last time he and Jesse had hauled Fives out of a Coruscant club. 

_ How long ago was that?  _

He had to keep himself from jumping when the bartender asked him what he wanted. He ordered something, then scanned the room for places an enemy could hide. 

Habit. 

No one was looking for him. For all intents and purposes, Rex was dead. For the first few months, he had been sure that people would recognize him as a clone, but Ahsoka was right. Without his armor, in civilian clothes, the beginnings of a beard obscuring his face, everyone’s eyes slid past him. The bartender gave him the drink, which Rex had already forgotten he’d ordered. 

His thoughts were far away, which seemed to be his constant state of being. It has been what, a year? Eighteen months? He’d once been so ordered, so consistent. Now he couldn’t even remember how long it had been since he lost everything. 

The Order had come so quick, so suddenly. But like all tragedies, the fallout was painfully slow. 

For a while, his thoughts had been questions endlessly hounding him. Why hadn’t he believed Fives sooner? Why hadn’t he pushed harder for an investigation,  _ made  _ people listen to his report? Would it have been any different? But questions were nothing new to Rex and he could work through them. Ignore them. He and Ahsoka pushed themselves so hard, trying to gather what scraps of information they could, help in whatever small way was possible, that he had no time to think about them. 

Then the questions had begun to morph into answers, which were far harder to outmaneuver. Fives had been right, it was so much bigger than all of them. If he had listened, he would’ve been silenced as well. 

Rex took a drink. 

The hollow answers to his questions had pounded against his skull for a while. At the very least, their sound had kept the things he wanted to forget at bay. But the emptiness had been filled eventually. It became harder to focus on Ahsoka’s plans, harder to pick up a blaster without his hands shaking.

Most days he could still hear Fives gasping for air in his last moments, could smell the melted armor and flesh, could feel the  _ fear  _ in his voice as he begged Rex to listen. They weren’t supposed to be able to fear death. Their training -  _ brainwashing  _ \- on Kamino had even told them that troopers felt peace at the end, knowing they had served their purpose. 

What a kriffing load of shit. 

No, troopers weren’t supposed to be afraid. They also weren’t supposed to be plagued by nightmares of their friends turning on one another. They weren’t supposed to be haunted by voices whispering “good soldiers follow orders.” They weren’t supposed to feel the ghosts of their brothers in arms demanding to know why he killed them.

If clones weren’t supposed to feel, why did it hurt so damn much? 

Why had this become his reality? 

He took another drink. 

Slowly, the pain which had been so sharp and insisting became dull. The visions of the 501st, everything he’d ever had, served as merely a bleak backdrop out of which surfaced another question. 

What could he possibly do now? There was no programming for a retired soldier. The clones weren’t supposed to make it to any kind of afterward. In fact, because of their accelerated growth, many clones wouldn’t see more than twenty years before the side effects of Kamino’s program destroyed them. 

He supposed that included him. 

That should’ve bothered him more. 

He took another drink and found his glass was empty. 

“Bartender.” Was that really his voice? Why did it sound slurred? “Another.” 

The girl behind the bar glanced his way. She seemed to come to some kind of conclusion about him, but made no comment as she filled his glass again. 

Whatever was happening to him...it was getting worse. Ahsoka took care of him, but he saw the worried expression she wore when she looked at him. Sometimes, he’d be walking down a street and forget how he got there. Even now, the memory of why he’d come into the bar was fuzzy. 

Ahsoka still had hope. Rex couldn’t fathom that. She’d lost just as much as him. Maybe even more. Yet she still fought on.

But Order 66 took the fight from Rex. Ahsoka survived the order, but Rex had  _ lived  _ it. Only for a few minutes, granted, but it left its mark. 

Those memories hadn’t faded. He still woke up sweating, feeling sick. How could he explain it to Ahsoka? He knew exactly what each and every trooper had felt. There had been a few seconds of struggle, of understanding what he was about to do and wanting to do everything in his power to stop it. Then nothing but complete, pure  _ rage.  _

Rex hadn’t known he was capable of that much anger. 

Ahsoka understood how the chip altered brain activity, how it affected the clones from a scientific standpoint. But what Rex couldn’t explain, would rather die than explain, was that a small part of that anger hadn’t just been some device the Kaminoans had stuck in his head. 

Rex had plenty to be angry about. Krell ordering his men to fire on one another, demanding he execute Fives and the others. Echo dying in an explosion, only to find him in a state almost worse than death. Orders to hunt down Fives, then Ahsoka. Jesse’s mind, tortured by Maul.  _ Execute Order 66.  _

Yet he’d never let himself feel what he ought to have at any of these tragedies. He’d coped with the losses as well as he could - or rather, as well as he’d been allowed. He told himself the moments they shared made the loss worth it.

Then it had all hit him and for one horrible moment, he, Rex, not CT 7567, had wanted to kill the Jedi. 

_ “Just set those things to stun...I don’t want to kill anyone.”  _

But he’d known, really known, how much  _ they  _ wanted to kill  _ her.  _ He’d seen that she was desperately hoping somehow she could snap them back. She’d hoped their shared history would’ve been enough - and how could it not, when they painted her symbols on their helmets? 

Ahsoka felt more guilt than he did at the number of clones they’d killed in the days since the Order. She clung to their memory, he supposed. It was sentimental, a weakness. He’d wanted to shake her, to make her understand the irreversible destruction brought to their entire existence, to demand she give up that foolish hope that, despite loss after loss, she  _ still  _ held. 

He wondered when she’d break, like him. She never did. She still treated him like an honorable soldier. Why didn’t she understand? If two people went to war, and one continued to fight even though they were both broken, didn’t that make it clear who the better soldier was?

The only purpose he’d ever had. And he’d failed it completely. 

He was defective. 

By the time Rex asked for another drink, he realized he was the last person sitting in the bar. When had that happened? The girl didn’t move this time. Instead she crossed her arms and stared at him. 

“What are you looking at?” he snapped.

“You’re a deserter,” she said plainly. 

“What’s it to you if I am?” 

“Nothing. I can just tell. We get your kind here every so often.” 

Rex paused, empty glass halfway to his lips. “My...my kind?” 

“Yeah. Soldiers who don’t know what to do with themselves. You know, now that the droids and the clones all fight for the same side, apparently. They used to be shooting at the droids beside the clones, but now no one knows who they’re supposed to shoot at.” 

_ Oh.  _

“The war made things uncertain enough,” the bartender went on, scrubbing the bar. “But now you’ve got people saying they miss the Republic. Suppose they forgot about all the times the Republic marched their army through their system." She shrugged. " I dunno, Republic, Empire it’s all the same to me. Funny how they said they want to help, but the only help they’ve ever given me is one long line of soldiers and civilians who need my drinks to forget the things they’ve seen.”

“Yeah…”

She slid the rest of the bottle over. “This one’s on the house, deserter. Looks like you could kriffing use it.” 

Rex just nodded. He hadn’t heard anything after  _ deserter.  _

He wasn’t sure how much longer he sat there before the bartender was telling him he had to leave. He was trying to remember which way he came in and started to say he didn’t know, when a familiar hand rested on his shoulder.

“I apologize, ma’am,” Ahsoka said somewhere behind him. “This should cover the tab.” She helped him stand, and a good thing too because he wouldn’t have made it to the door otherwise. Shame flooded him. If he’d caught any of his own soldiers acting like this, he’d have been furious. 

Ahsoka wasn’t furious. Even though this was far from the first time she’d had to bring him back to the ship like this, she still wasn’t furious. She said nothing and let him go to his cabin with no questions asked. 

He lay on his bunk - how had he gotten there, again?- listening, like he did every night, to the silence that threatened to suffocate him. 

  
  


Ahsoka was waiting for him the next morning. She let him get his breakfast rations (and meds for his hangover) in peace, but Rex could tell if he didn’t bring something else up, she was going to try and get him to talk about the previous night. 

He walked over to the holotable and turned it on. The map of their next target appeared. He began to study it. The screams were easiest to ignore when Rex was looking at a map. The map was like a puzzle, and one he understood well. He could take in all the terrain and numbers on the projected map and break it down. He automatically began looking for routes for different types of assaults, potential retreats, and good places to dig in. 

“When do we make our move?” He asked.

The faintest frown appeared on her brow. He knew she was worried. Worried about him. He wished she would stop. “Soon. Within the next few rotations. The best time will be during a prisoner transfer.” 

“Good...that’s good.” 

He stared at the map again. The building was situated near the mineral mines, making the terrain around it rocky and somewhat desolate. Rex looked up and realized Ahsoka had asked him a question. 

“I uh - sorry. What was that?” 

“Which direction should we approach from?” 

“I -” He looked at the map again and remembered it was a detention facility. “The back has fewer defenses, but it’s also a lot more out in the open. If we could get close enough to the front, we’d be out of range of their heavy artillery guns and we’d have terrain cover.” 

Ahsoka brought a hand to her chin in a contemplative gesture. 

_Does she know how much she looks like General Kenobi when she does that?_ _  
_ “Yes. I think you’re right, Rex. Good. We’ll do that, then.” 

He might’ve been able to keep her from bringing up the previous night’s events if she hadn’t found him putting on his old armor in the med bay a few hours later. 

“Rex, what are you doing?” 

He looked up from adjusting the armor on his right arm. “I’m - I’m getting ready. We have...a mission. Why isn’t anyone else…” He glanced around, realizing none of his brothers were getting ready beside him. He felt a moment’s irritation. Why weren’t they getting a move on? They had a mission!

The next moment, he felt his stomach twist as he remembered.

“Rex,” Ahsoka said gently. “You can’t use your armor anymore. It’ll give us away.” 

“I know! I’m sorry, I just - it’s fine. I’ll be fine. Just an old habit.” He tried to move past her, but she blocked his way. 

“Can you tell me the details of our mission?” she asked quietly. 

“We’re...we’re going…” They had just talked about this. He  _ knew  _ they’d just talked about this. He struggled to remember for a few moments, then looked down in defeat. 

Ahsoka placed a hand on his shoulder. He knew she was looking at him with that compassionate expression that only deepened his guilt. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? 

“I think you should stay here for this one,” she said. 

“I’m fine,” he snapped, snatching his helmet from the med bay table. 

“Rex, I know you’d never let a wounded soldier go into battle. They’d only slow down the other men, making them a liability to themselves and others.” 

“I’m not injured!” he protested. 

“Not physically, maybe.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. The protest that clones didn’t get things like battle shock, that they were engineered to withstand battle related trauma, died on his lips. She continued, “I know you want to help -” 

“Help?” he scoffed. “Commander, I’m just trying to  _ survive _ . All these little missions we keep doing - we’re going to get caught! Why don’t you understand that?” 

“If you’re just trying to survive, Rex, then why do you keep coming with me?” 

Rex wished he was drunk, because that at least would be an excuse for why he kept spewing words. “Why do I come along? Where else would I kriffing go?! You think I come along because I think these missions have a chance of succeeding in taking back what we lost?!” 

“I thought,” she said, “helping would help you forgive yourself.” 

_ It’s too late for that.  _

“Trying to help is what got me here,” Rex growled. “When Tup snapped, I thought it would _ help _ to send Fives with him, but Tup died anyway. When Fives ran, I thought and so did General Sky-” Rex saw the flash of pain in Ahsoka’s face. It was only because he knew her so well that he could tell what emotion it was. “The general and I thought it would  _ help  _ to let Fives talk before taking him in, but Fives  _ died anyway _ .” 

He could see how his words were hurting her, and yet he couldn’t make them stop.

“On Mandalore, I finally thought we  _ helped _ . But all we did was leave them an army that would turn on them. We sabotaged our own final victory!” He turned away as he felt himself dangerously close to crying. His hands were shaking and his helmet clattered to the floor.

“Deserter,” Rex muttered. “That bartender was right. I’m a deserter.” 

“And so am I,” Ahsoka said. She sounded as weary as he felt. He turned, intending to leave. His helmet had rolled in front of the door after he’d dropped it. He saw a warped reflection of his face in the visor and a wave of nausea hit him without warning. The sounds of blaster fire and artillery cannons that lurked in the edges of his consciousness rang in his ears, assaulting him without warning, and his knees buckled. 

Ahsoka caught him. 

They sat on the floor, their backs against the wall. Rex took a few shallow breaths, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the noise. Slowly, he got his breathing under control and passed hand over his face. Ahsoka left the room briefly and returned with water. He muttered his thanks and drank. It was five minutes before Rex suddenly said,

“Did...did I ever tell you about...about Cut?”

“Who?” 

He supposed it didn’t matter now if he told now. “I was with General Kenobi. We were on Saleucami, tracking Grievous.” It was strange how all these names that had once been so frequently demanding his attention had become obsolete and nearly forgotten. “I took a shot to the chest, so Jesse left me at a farm while they went to finish the mission.” 

“ _ Two inches to the left and it would’ve gone through your heart.”  _

“The woman wasn’t very happy to see us. I didn’t realize why until her husband came back that night. He was a clone. A deserter. His unit was destroyed on one of his first missions, so he didn’t go back. He...said he didn’t want to wait his turn to be slaughtered in a war that made no sense to him. I wrote him off as a coward at first.” 

He remembered sitting in that tiny farm house, surrounded by all the things he knew he’d never have as Cut’s wife put dinner on the table, and the children begged their father for a story. All things he didn’t know if he even  _ wanted  _ but if he did, would never have the choice to have. 

“I never thought there was any other way for a clone. How could there be? But Cut...he made another way. Somehow. When the war took everything from him, he found something else worth defending.”

Ahsoka said softly, “Did you want another way, Rex?” 

He leaned his head against the wall. “I don’t know. I was...jealous of that, sometimes. How free he was. But now I think I understand. He wasn’t free. He must’ve spent every moment terrified that the few things he’d been allowed to love would be taken from him, just like his brothers were. Yes, I wanted another way. But the more I think about it, the more I realize there was no freedom for him there.”  _ And he certainly found no freedom in the end.  _

“What happened to him?” Ahsoka asked. 

“I went to find him,” Rex confessed. “That time when I...left for a few days.”

“You mean the time when you stole the ship and left me a very vague and cryptic message and I thought that you weren’t coming back?” Ahsoka clarified. 

Rex shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. That.” 

“Did you find him?” 

“I did. I wish I hadn’t.” 

“What happened?” 

“What always happens when I try to help,” Rex said bitterly. 

“Rex…”

“He had a chip, same as the rest of us. I - I didn’t think of it until then and I - well, I didn’t know what that meant. I found him, same place where I left him, but he wasn’t the same. The chip activated, but because there was no one to give him direct orders, the protocol drove him mad.” 

Cut had looked like Tup had the last time Rex had seen him: head lolling from side to side, eyes vacant, repeating  _ good soldiers follow orders  _ over and over and over again. Cut’s wife Suu had had to keep her husband restrained to prevent him from hurting himself and his family. 

“I explained what had happened...and how I escaped. His wife wanted to try to remove it. I told her that I wasn’t sure what would happen, but she was very determined. She found a medical droid, her son programmed it to do the operation.” 

Before they attempted the operation to remove the chip, Cut’s daughter, who was no longer a little girl, led her vacant-eyed father around the garden speaking to him with such care that Rex almost wept. 

_ “My children lost one father _ ,” Suu said.  _ “I don’t want them to lose another.” _

“I told them,” Rex continued, “That the brain scan showed significant deterioration and that wasn’t good news. They still wanted to risk it.” 

Of course they’d wanted to risk it. The alternative was to leave Cut near catatonic, not knowing who they were, or even his own name. 

“Did they remove it?” 

“Yes.” 

Rex wished he could say that Cut had a few minutes of clarity when the chip was removed. That he’d had time to see his children and know them, to kiss his wife goodbye. 

But that wasn’t true. 

“He had a seizure almost immediately after. The removal triggered a hemorrhage and Cut died convulsing in his wife’s arms, bleeding through his ears.” 

His voice managed to get the entire story out without a waver, but as soon as he said it, he felt another wave of nausea as he remembered Cut’s scream. Rex had bolted from the room like a coward, leaving the family with their grief. 

“And I can’t stop thinking...It should have been me,” he said to Ahsoka. “There were so many kriffing times when....”

His body was covered in scars from all the times it should have been him. There was the blaster wound just above his heart, marking the injury that had brought him to Cut in the first place. The scar along his neck was from a two inch shard of shrapnel that had grazed him, then tore into the soldier beside him. His fingers brushed the side of his head, feeling the almost imperceptible surgical scar from where Ahsoka had removed his inhibitor chip.

Ahsoka said quietly, “But it wasn’t you. You survived.”

“Cut had a  _ reason _ ,” Rex said. “He should’ve been the one to live. He had a  _ life.” _

“You have a life too, Rex.” 

“Not one worth a damn. The war made me what I am, then when it was done, it broke me. Why-” he tried to stop himself but the bitter words came. “Why didn’t you just let me go? Isn’t it bad enough that all we were made for was war? Why did you have to care? Why did you teach me to care?” 

Ahsoka folded her arms tightly, not looking at him. “I didn’t teach you to care, Rex. You always have.” 

He didn’t want it to be true. It was so much worse if that was true. “But why...why couldn’t you have just let me go?

He heard Fives gasping his last words many times in his head. And he felt a horrible kind of jealousy at his words. 

_ The nightmares...they’re over. At last.  _

He just wanted it to be  _ done.  _

“When they gave the order,” Ahsoka said. “You fought. You were the one who gave me the clue about Fives. You didn’t want to let go, Rex.” 

“Maybe I do now.” 

Ahsoka’s shoulders slumped and she rested her chin on her hand. “Rex, I know how futile this all seems. I know how hopeless it looks. Believe me, I do.” 

“Then why-” 

“What else can I do?” She stood up so abruptly Rex flinched. “I fear that the fight is all I am. Because it’s all I’ve ever known, it’s all I’m good for. I’m a soldier, same as you. If I stopped...what would be left?” 

Rex looked up at Ahsoka. Her eyes were fixed at the other side of the room, staring at nothing. He remembered that look as she stared out the bridge of a ship, light warped by hyperspace. 

_ “All I’ve been since I was a padawan is a soldier.”  _

Her entire demeanor held a gravity much heavier for someone so considerably young. Her eyes betrayed only a glimmer of the terrible things she’d witnessed. Her expression was one of someone who has seen the worst of what the galaxy could do, and yet saw something beyond it she still thought was worth reaching for. 

He realized his cynical thoughts in the bar about her persistent hope had been of a skewed version of who she really was. He’d been thinking of her as the young, optimistic girl he’d met at the Battle of Christophsis with her hope fueled by the fairy tales told to her at the Jedi Temple. After betrayal and loss and rejection, she’d never caved to bitterness or anger. The beaming girl who arrived at Christophsis was not dead, she was simply transformed. She had not tried to remove her kindness or her hope, but had learned how best to wield them. 

Selfishly, he’d been waiting for the day she would crack, for the day it would all become too much and she would realize how pointless the struggle was. How much easier it would be to simply surrender. 

And he realized now she never would. 

The fight would never leave Ahsoka. It might go dormant, it might struggle to remain alive, but it would never leave. Once, he would’ve called her naive. But they’d shared too many battles for that to be true. Ahsoka wasn’t naive, her time away from the Jedi order had cured her of any remaining idealism. He couldn’t scoff at her hope, like he could with other idealists. She had been disillusioned just like everyone else. 

Her hope was founded on  _ something  _ real. He just couldn’t understand what. 

“No. There’s more to you than just a soldier, Ahsoka Tano. There always has been.”

She took a deep breath. “Thank you.” 

There was nothing more to say for some time. Neither could muster the energy to get up, so they didn’t. The armor, which had once been a second skin to Rex, felt heavy and finally he forced himself to his feet to take it off. Ahsoka picked his helmet up from the floor and put it back in the storage unit with the rest of their relics of the Republic. 

“I don’t think you should come with me on this mission,” she said. “But I would appreciate your help planning it.” 

Rex, of course, agreed. But he proved to be little help. He continued to lose his train of thought mid-sentence and could hardly remember what Ahsoka said for more than two minutes. Finally, she decided they’d regroup tomorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said as she turned to go to her cabin. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

She was hoping he’d have a better day tomorrow. Rex wasn’t so sure he would. 

“You are strong, Ahsoka,” he said suddenly. She turned around. “You are incredibly strong. But you assume everyone around you has that same strength. You expect everyone to keep up. You picked that up from - from General Skywalker, I think.” He gave a slight smile. “I’m not sure I can keep up.” 

“Then I’ll slow down,” she said. 

“No. I can’t ask you to do that. I know you, Commander. You wouldn’t be happy doing anything except looking for answers. And with the state of things...you might be one of the only people who can find enough answers to begin to form a solution.” 

“But you won’t come with me?” 

He tried to pick his next words carefully. “In the war, no matter how terrible things got...I still believed in what we were fighting for. I was willing to endure the hell they put us through because I believed the goal was worth it. But now...you’re asking me to fight for something I’m not sure is possible.” 

Ahsoka gave a sad smile. “And you say you’re  _ just  _ a soldier.” He shrugged. “You always had heart in your fight, Rex. There are Jedi I knew who couldn’t say that much.” 

He didn’t know how to accept her words. “Do - do I have your permission to leave?” 

“You don’t need my permission.” 

“Still, I’d like it.”  _ Really? After everything she’s lost, you’re going to force her to dismiss you? _

“If you’re going to leave, Rex, that is your choice. Don’t make me make it for you.” 

“I -” 

“Sleep on it. We have time.” She turned quickly and left the room.

In his cabin, the silence felt different that night. The slight sounds that carried through the ship might’ve been the sound of a stray breeze coming through the vents. But Rex knew that wind could sound very similar to the sound of someone trying to hide their tears.

He knew Ahsoka knew his answer the next day. They ate breakfast in silence, neither looking at the other. Rex hadn’t slept at all, dreading this conversation. He cleared his throat. 

“I am leaving.” 

Ahsoka kept her eyes fixed on the table. “Where will you go?” 

“Not sure yet. I might pay a visit to Cut’s family. See if they need help with the harvest.” 

“How will you get there?” 

He had been hoping she would take him, but her tone made him rethink that. “I’ll work around here, I guess, until I have enough to get there.” 

Silence stretched between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka said. “I understand you need to go, I do. But that doesn’t make it easier.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s just - what will you do? What if - what if you need help and I can’t give it? What if -” Her expression reminded him painfully of General Skywalker whenever he abandoned protocol yet again to rescue someone he cared about, often endangering many lives, including his own. Jedi were not supposed to form attachments, but Rex had served with the biggest exception to that rule. Like Master, like Padawan. 

“I will do everything in my power to survive. I swear it,” He said. “I might be functionally useless, but the least I can do is stay alive. You saved my neck so many times, it would be pretty poor repayment to die on you.” She almost laughed. “And some day, I’ll find you, and I’ll be ready to fight again.” Those last words were likely lies. But the truth hurt, and he’d already hurt her enough. Sometimes, lying is a kindness. 

“I’ll find you transport to Saleucami,” Ahsoka said. “Would be a pretty poor repayment of all the times  _ you  _ saved  _ my  _ neck to force you to work in this dump to get your fare.”

“Thank you.” 

While she was gone, Rex packed. There wasn’t much for him to take. He almost left his old armor in the cabinet, but instinct drove him to put it in his bag. He filled a separate bag with weapons. Even if he didn’t use them, he could sell them. Something fell out of the cabinet. He bent down and picked up a strand of Padawan beads. He recognized them as Ahsoka’s from her days in the Jedi Order. He was seized with a sudden urge to take them, to hold on to the scrap of life from before Order 66. 

“You can have them.” He turned to see Ahsoka standing in the doorway. “I don’t want them.” 

Rex carefully placed the beads in his pocket. “Thank you.” 

“There’s a transport leaving for Saleucami in a few hours.” 

“Really? Convenient. It’s a bit out of the way, not on usual shipping routes.” 

“I might’ve bribed the pilot a bit,” Ahsoka admitted with a bit of her former mischief. 

He picked up his bags and she followed him to the ship’s hatch. He hesitated. What could he say? What could possibly communicate all the things that this goodbye was? 

Then before he knew what she was doing, Ahsoka hugged him. Surprised, he very awkwardly hugged her back. She held him at arm’s length as they pulled away. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Just, you know, since protocol and stuff don’t matter anymore….” 

He hugged her again. 

As they broke apart, she stood up straight and lifted her hand in a sharp salute. He returned the gesture. 

“May the Force be with you, Rex,” she said quietly. 

He didn’t look back as he walked away from the ship, leaving the last vestiges of Captain Rex behind him. The beads rattled slightly in his pocket. Maybe if enough people could see whatever it is Ahsoka saw on the other side of the ravages of the Empire, maybe…

_ Careful, Rex. Dangerous thing, hope.  _

He took the beads from his pocket and wound them around his hand, in some small hope that they might give him a fraction of her courage. 

_ May the Force be with you, Ahsoka Tano. _


End file.
